


Coils

by Raven_Ehtar



Series: Loki's Brood [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Established Relationship, Family, FrostIron - Freeform, Gen, Loki's Kids, M/M, POV Child, Parent Loki, Parent Tony Stark, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12316038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: Of the three of them, he was by far the quietest and the least noticeable. It was easy for him to go an entire day without anyone acknowledging his presence for more than a greeting, if even that.





	Coils

**Author's Note:**

> **Historian’s Note:** This series takes place after Phase One. Anything post The Avengers is not taken into account.
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** ‘[Loki's Brood](http://8tracks.com/raven-ehtar/loki-s-brood)' on 8tracks

Of the three of them, he was by far the quietest and the least noticeable. It was easy for him to go an entire day without anyone acknowledging his presence for more than a greeting, if even that. 

Jör didn’t mind. In fact, he often preferred to not be noticed. Being noticed usually led to a certain amount of expectation, to act in a certain way or to speak with whomever it was that had done the noticing. It was an exhausting exercise, to have that sort of pressure lain on him for simply existing, for taking up space. 

Jörmungandr had learned over the years to not only appreciate his natural talent of avoiding notice, but to cultivate it into a true skill. Without having to go so far as to hide, he could travel from place to place, his unremarkable presence attracting absolutely no notice. It seemed to him that there were many who lived for attention, for everyone around them to acknowledge their presence. There were quite a few of this type in his own family. It baffled Jör considerably, but he was glad of them. With so many surrounding him who craved attention, it made it so much easier for those such as him to slink by without ever registering on anyone’s radar. 

It actually surprised him just how easy it was to move around unseen within the Mansion, at Stark Towers, or anywhere else. As the years went on his skills grew, but so did he. It seemed only natural that as he grew the more noticeable he would become, the more difficult it would become to go about as he pleased, unpressured by the gaze and expectations of others. He had already far outstripped his brother and sister in size, especially in his serpent body. Surely as he took more space it would become more obvious that there must be someone there who was doing the taking. 

But it never happened. Jör found that he could still steal about nearly undetected when he chose. He decided that it was not just his skill that allowed this, but also the simple fact that others were not so observant as he was. He was very good at remaining still and quiet when he wished, at watching and listening with all of his attention. There were none who could creep up on him undetected, no one who saw him when he did not wish to be seen. 

“Hey, Jör buddy!”

…almost no one. 

He looked up from the tablet in his lap, already aware of who it was he would see. There were few who were able to come up on him unnoticed, and out of that limited pool only one who called him ‘buddy’ at any given time. 

Clint Barton stood near at hand, dressed for action, but also as though he didn’t expect a serious fight. His quiver of arrows was strapped to his back, his bow slung over one shoulder, and Jör could see the hilt of one of his knives poking out of a boot, but he wore minimal armor. It looked as though he were anticipating more of a need for speed and stealth rather than battle. He stood at ease, looking down at Jör, who was curled up in one corner of a couch, with a light smile. He held a bright green apple in one hand. 

Jör blinked, allowing a moment to pass before replying, in case there was more beyond the greeting. When there was not, Jör returned it. “Good afternoon, Clint. How do you fare?”

The curve of the man’s mouth tilted slightly, the set of his shoulders resetting to mirror the expression. _Amusement._

“I fare well enough, young reptile,” he replied, laughter lurking in his tone. “How do _you_ fare, and what is it that has your attention so absorbed?” He motioned to the slim, semi-transparent tablet in Jör’s hand.

He glanced back down at it. On the tablet’s surface was a nest of graphs, windows of text and a few videos all playing simultaneously, but silently. He shrugged, the motion feeling just as unnatural as it always did. “I am attempting to predict the future trends which will affect Stark Enterprises and its affiliates.”

Clint’s brows shot up to his hairline, his head angling back a fraction. _Surprise._ He leaned closer in order to get a better view of the tablet, forearms resting on the sofa back. “From all of that?”

Jör considered shrugging again, decided against it. “It’s complicated, with lots of variables, but the most accurate predictions take into account the most facts.”

Clint grunted, a noncommittal sort of sound. “Is this one of your homework assignments, then?” His tone was peculiarly flat. 

Abruptly alert, Jör looked at the man closely, but there were no clear visual markers as to his mood or inner thoughts. He stood just as he had, leaning over so he could examine Jör’s tablet, his eyes fixed on the same. He was perhaps a little too still, but that was common for Clint. The grip on his apple was, perhaps, a little tight. 

Jör licked his lips. A very slight acidity hung in the air. 

“No,” he said, deciding truth was the best course. “This is one of my own projects. I like to see how close my predictions will be.”

Clint snorted and straightened back up. The small tension Jör had detected but not pinpointed disappeared. “You’ve got an odd idea of fun, kid. When I was your age I was…” He trailed away, his gaze going distant for a moment. “You know what? Never mind. Doesn’t matter what I was doing. Your thing is still kinda odd, though.”

He nodded. “I suppose I’m a little out of the ordinary, even from those around me.”

“To be fair, I think that description pretty much applies to all of us here.” Clint smirked, his tone suggesting self-depreciating humor.

“Perhaps,” Jör cautiously conceded. He eyed Clint again, looking pointedly at the weapons he carried. “And what is it _you_ are doing today?”

Clint shrugged, his quiver of arrows rising and falling with the motion. “Just some work for the bigwigs. They wanted to send in Tasha, but I tagged in for her. She’s been running herself a little ragged lately, so I figured she could use the break. Don’t tell her I said that,” he added quickly. 

Jör smiled. Even more than shrugging, smiling felt strange and unnatural, but he always made sure to do it at the appropriate times. People got uncomfortable around those who never smiled. Jör liked Natasha, respected her prowess and her dedication. He also understood as well as anyone who had spent a significant amount of time around her how little she would appreciate the concept of others trying to take care of her. Small wonder the archer would wish his motives for taking the job kept from her. 

He licked his lips again. Also small wonder why it was that Clint would feel such a compulsion to protect his long time friend. 

“Don’t worry. She will not learn the truth from me.”

“Oh. Good,” Clint said, a little uncertainly. “Thank you. Well, I’d best hit the road, at that. Have fun with your… predictions.”

Jör smiled again, this one coming more easily. “I shall. The same to you on your recognizance.”

Clint waved as he left, the other hand tossing the apple into the air lazily and catching it again. Jör watched him go until he turned a corner before going back to his tablet. It didn’t take him long to realize, however, that the interruption had completely disrupted his train of thought. The long series of numbers, variables and other bits of information refused to arrange themselves the way they had before, and no matter how hard he shoved at them all, they would not go. 

He sighed, and deactivated the tablet. He was a little annoyed that what he had been ‘working’ on had all been lost, but looking at the clock he conceded that the interruption was probably for the best. Without realizing it, he had spent three hours on the couch, absorbing information. If someone hadn’t disturbed him there was no knowing how long he would have gone on. He’d been known to lose entire days like that in the past. 

Deciding that after so much time immobile while in human form that he ought to stretch a little, Jör began walking the same direction Clint had taken, intending to go outside for a while. 

He enjoyed staying at the Mansion, more so than the Tower. Not that the Tower was uncomfortable, but the Mansion was homier, and felt more spacious even though, foot for foot, the Tower far outstripped it. The Mansion was arranged as a normal Midgardian home, though on a larger scale, where every part of it was available to everyone - within the bounds of privacy. The Tower was as much a place of business as it was a home, or rather _homes._ Each floor was self contained and that carried with it the overwhelming impression that one ought to stick to whatever section they were meant to and not stray. Not that Jör ever fully paid attention to that rule, implied or implicit. He probably knew the Stark Tower better than the man who had designed it after the amount of time he’d spent slipping through the ventilation systems and utility passages. 

Still, the Mansion was more comfortable, and easier to navigate when Jör wanted to remain bipedal. 

The sound of voices came from ahead of him. Automatically he slowed down, pricking his ears to hear what he could. Iron-dad had caught him at his listening, though not very recently. He’d called it eavesdropping and scolded him for it, though he’d also rattled off a lot of exceptions to the rule. Eventually he’d trailed off that Jör should always use his best judgment, but not to listen to _every_ conversation he came across. Jör had taken the talk seriously, and the instruction. He was more discerning in what conversations he listened to. If it wasn’t interesting or potentially important, he would leave. 

Information was powerful, a kind of magic unto itself. If one became finicky about how or where they got that information, then they were only hurting themselves and handing the advantage over to someone else. 

As he approached, making no noise as he moved over the floor, he recognized one of the voices speaking as Clint’s. Apparently he hadn’t exited quickly enough and was caught up by… Uncle Thor. It was his unmistakable rumble answering Clint’s lighter voice. 

“…urbing,” his uncle was saying as Jör finally came close enough to make out words. “It worries me more than I care to say, that one day I will hear that call for help and find my nephew is the cause of it.”

Jör’s heart tripped over itself. He knew it was not him that Uncle Thor spoke of, but his brother Fenrir. It was usually Fenrir, with his unpredictable temper and preference for his more savage, animalistic side that caught the attention of the adults and made them worry. That made them fear. 

And fear often led to worse. 

“I understand your concern,” he heard Clint reply. “But Fen won’t go deep end on us. When he’s in his element, that kid is one of the most laid back I’ve ever seen.”

“And what would be his ‘element’?”

“The outdoors. Open places. Us. Yeah, us,” Clint repeated, possibly in response to an incredulous look. “He’s a good kid, Thor, and so long as he’s got family and a good safety net around him, he’ll be fine.”

There was a moment or two of silence before Thor replied. “Thank you, Barton. I know that you have taken a particular interest in the boy, and your friendship means very much to him.”

“Only because I _do_ take an interest,” Clint pointed out sharply. “He would appreciate it whatever the source.”

Uncle Thor made a slightly discomfited sound, then began to make his excuses for leaving. Jör took that as his cue to quietly slip away from the scene before he was discovered. It was usually best to not allow people know when he was listening, and he felt doubly motivated whenever he or his siblings were the subject under discussion.

It was always worrisome when the topics of conversation turned to the three of them, the children of Loki. He, Fenrir and their sister Hela had been an entirely unexpected addition to the dynamic of the Avengers, even more so than their father, who at least was an adult and Thor’s - adopted - brother. They had come along with their father, and taken the entire team by surprise. And surprises could lead to unexpected and unpleasant consequences. 

Which wasn’t to say that they were an unwelcome addition to the household. Jör- all of them, really, spent a large portion of their time observing the humans around them. Danger had a habit of coming from unexpected places, and so long as they were watching in every direction, they would at least have that covered. They watched carefully, and what they always found was that they were greatly liked, perhaps even loved by the hodgepodge of personalities in colorful suits that had become their family. But still, they weren’t an expected addition, and that was bound to cause some friction. 

It was important to know as much as possible of all that was going on around them, especially when it came to those closest to them. If one knew all of what was to come, then they would never be surprised, and the danger would be reduced. 

But it could never be fully erased. After all, their mother Angrboda hadn’t been surprised when the men of Asgard had broken in on them. She had known they would come, she had prepared for them… and still she had fallen. 

Her children had survived, though. They must be stronger than ever she had been if they wanted to keep her death from being an empty sacrifice. 

It was important to always be aware of what was going on around them. 

Jörmungandr didn’t pay any attention to where his feet were taking him. It was one of the oddest things about having appendages, they tended to run off with the rest of him without his realizing it. When he finally did take note of where he was, he was outside the little library on the second floor. He peeked in out of curiosity and spotted a familiar shape. 

Hela was sitting at a table in the center of the room with piles of open books arranged around her. She looked up and saw him about the same moment he registered who she was. She gave him her half smile. 

“Jör! What’s up?”

He returned the smile, amused. Hela was trying to sound more like a Midgardian, changing the words she used to something closer to what a child of this world would use. From what he could tell she was doing a good enough job of it. She sounded more or less like a Midgardian, but it was strange to hear those words coming out of his sister’s mouth. 

“Stretching my legs,” he said, deciding to come into the room. He ran an eye over the books that she had spread over the table. “What are you, ah, ‘up to’?”

“Travelling,” Hela replied with rare enthusiasm, waving her hand over the open pages. Jör noticed that the vast majority of them were overlarge books with colorful, glossy pictures. There were some whose pages also sported print, smaller photos or sketches, and at least one full of diagrams of what looked like ancient Midgardian technology. 

“Travelling?”

“Yes! I mean, yeah! All over this planet, and all through the centuries! I think the next time father takes us out on a field trip, I would like to go to Egypt, or Mesopotamia, or Ecuador.” She pointed to each of the places she named on an atlas by her elbow. Her one visible cheek was flushed, bright green eye shining. “Any of those places, or plenty of others would be great fun to visit, don’t you think?”

Jör looked over the places she had pointed out on the map. They were distant from each other and from New York, but the significance of the locations was not lost on him. There were all starting points of civilization on Midgard, places where traces of those beginnings were still easily observable. He gave Hela a curious look. 

“Perhaps. But you know there’s not much left of those places but dust and stories. It wouldn’t actually be like stepping into the past.”

His sister gave a shrug, undeterred. “So? It’ll still be fun to go and see the places, to imagine what life was like back in those days. Just to see where the ancient Midgardians got their starts and compare it to what they are now would be interesting.”

Jör gave a half nod, not fully on board but not disagreeing. He looked over the books again, paying more attention to what exactly they were all showing. The simple answer to that seemed to be ‘everywhere.’ He was able to recognize most of them by sight, not needing to check the little print labels beside them. Australia, Japan, Ireland, India, Greece, Iceland... from rolling hills to grand architecture to barren deserts to thick forests. None of them seemed to have much to do with each other save that they were all places far away. 

_Any place but here, any time but now,_ Jör thought to himself. It wasn’t that Hela harbored any particular dislike for where they were right now. He knew she was fond of all the people they lived and interacted with - she had even taken a liking to the artificial intelligence iron-dad had constructed, treating it like a living personality. That being said, however, Jör often found her at such activities as this, where she would lose herself in places and times far distant. Fiction or non-fiction, history or legends, Hela seemed to prefer to spend time outside of herself, the destination mattering less than the fact that it was _away._

Jör had a fairly good notion of why that was, and could hardly blame her. 

“Are you still considering becoming an archeologist?”

Hela bit her lip, her eye skipping over the pages as though looking for an answer. “Maybe,” she said eventually. “I would like to travel. A lot of the ‘mysteries’ of Midgardian history could benefit greatly from an outside perspective.” She turned her head toward the window, unconsciously exposing a glimpse of her lifeless half as her hair parted along her cheek and throat. “Of course, what I _want_ and what I can _have_ are different things. It all depends on what will be happening when the time comes.”

He didn’t comment. So much of what the three of them did or even planned was predicated on what they believed was possible for them. Dreams were nice, but they all had their limitations, which they dealt with in their own ways. Fenrir, from what he could tell, had no plans for his future. Nothing solid, at least. He went through life one day to the next with no clear vision or intention, but with an attitude that whatever the future held, it could not come fast enough. Such a haphazard approach to life was completely fitting to Fenrir’s nature, and was perhaps the most effective way to break free of the path lain out for them by the Norns. Time would tell. 

Hela did plan. She planned and studied and prepared for her future, all the while hiding from it. She knew what her future held, but she ignored it, pretended it did not exist and constructed something different for herself. Hela ought to have understood the nature of _wyrd_ the best, but still it didn’t stop her. Even her using Midgardian speech was a symptom of her denial, a way of distracting herself. 

And Jör…

He didn’t stay in the library much longer after that. He left Hela to her book travelling and her planning for a future that would never be. 

He walked about the Mansion in a contemplative mood, and he didn’t like it very much. Contemplation often led to melancholy, and he had no desire to be melancholy. But thoughts of the future had intruded on his headspace, and now they refused to leave. They were the sorts of thoughts which were never far from him, but were no easier to navigate for their familiarity. 

It felt as though the future for him and his siblings had always been one of paradox, the threads of their shared _wyrd_ holding them tight to its conclusion, yet the pathways to that conclusion ever changing beneath their feet. 

From their earliest days of living in the hut of their mother, there had been a sense of chaos emanating from the horizon. When thoughts turned to the hours and days to come, always they were thrown into turmoil and uncertainty. Even as a child Jör had been aware of it, but had thought nothing of it. He knew, in a simple way, the natures of his parents, of the world they lived in, and the uncertain nature of the days to come had only seemed to fit in. 

It wasn’t until the Asgardian soldiers had broken through their door that he realized the danger of such a quiescent attitude. Their future was full of uncertainty, their paths just as like to run off in unexpected directions, to fall in the way of predators as it was to continue along sedately. From a warm hut to the ungentle hands of soldiers to the supposedly more merciful custody of the Asgardian Royals, to the loving but wearied and scarred embrace of their father, and finally to the confused but kind care of a Midgardian hero, their lives had been anything but a predictable. There was no knowing where they would end up next, but there was a sort of constancy in that they could always expect their futures to be turbulent. 

Where they were now was only a harbor between storms. 

Jör shook himself, and wondered if Pepper were anywhere around today. She wasn’t often found at the Mansion, having too much to do as the head CEO of Stark Enterprises, but occasionally she did drop in to visit. 

Jör liked it when Pepper came by. More than anyone else that he and his siblings interacted with, Pepper offered a sense of solidarity and practicality that no one else really had. The Captain was steady in his way, but too often he was called to question his own sensibilities, and was outside his proper time. Often he was too busy finding his own footing to give a real sense of stability. Out of anyone on the Avengers team, Bruce was probably the steadiest and most reliable. His personality was practical, easy going, and so firmly rooted in reality that Jör occasionally found himself checking the man’s feet to be certain he hadn’t become a tree while he hadn’t been looking. But while Bruce as a person was about as steady as they came, he had his own problems which made him unpredictable.

Pepper, though. Being around her was the best way he had ever found to take away the unpleasant sensation of instability. The ground lay still around her; the days ahead were less a chaotic kaleidoscope of possibilities.

It wasn’t very likely that she was at the Mansion today, or had any plans to come. He could always request that she come when she had time, or visit her if she couldn’t leave her office. It was a rare time when both requests would be turned down. Despite how busy she was with her job, Pepper could usually make time to swing by the Mansion, and if she couldn’t then Jör was nearly always welcome to spend time with her. He was naturally quiet, so didn’t distract her from her work, and since she had discovered that he not only had an interest in what went into running a corporation like Stark Enterprises but an aptitude for it as well, she had taken to teaching him the job. 

He knew it was considered an odd way for a child his age to spend his time, but Jör found it relaxing. He enjoyed Pepper’s company, and he enjoyed learning something as complex as how to run a company, the size of Stark Enterprises. The various bits of information acted like pins to help hold down the writhing future. 

Jör dug into his pocket, fishing out a little tube of lip balm. It had been a gift from Pepper when she’d noticed that his lips were constantly peeling, particularly his upper lip. It was an effect of his licking his lips when he wanted to taste the air in human form. As a serpent there was no problem, but human bodies were not designed for what was normal in a serpent. The balm helped, though it also threw off his sense of taste a bit. It was a fair enough trade off, and Jör wasn’t about to insult Pepper by discarding her present. 

Jör wasn’t really aware of where he was – again - until he came across other people. He decided it was probably a bad idea to walk around when he was thinking. Who knew where he might end up?

Thankfully where he wound up this time was back on the first floor - heading back towards the front door to spend some time outside, maybe? - and in the living room. Or rather, at the threshold to the living room. 

He spotted the two of them immediately. They were both standing by one of the big bay windows that overlooked the grounds surrounding the Mansion. It was a bright and sunny day, but that side of the house was in the shade so that while there was plenty of light, it wasn’t blinding to look outside. It also made it easy to make out the exact shape of the people standing before it. 

Father and iron-dad stood there, each of them apparently absorbed in the view outside. It seemed a little strange to Jör why such a view would hold much interest when it was one they were both very familiar with. But then, maybe that was why. Maybe it was just nice to stare at something which was familiar. They were both relaxed, standing at ease and wearing clothes that said neither of them intended to leave the house today. Jör’s heart lifted a little at that thought. Both of them had been busy of late, especially father. It always made him nervous when father became particularly busy. 

He became aware that while neither of them were really moving, they appeared to be speaking with one another. He could just make out the low tones from across the room, but his hearing wasn’t very good, even compared to a human. Iron-dad had suggested hearing aids at one point, but he didn’t think it was as bad as that. As he strained to hear them now, he almost wished he did have them. He licked his lips, but it was a reflex action. They were far too far away to make out any scents. 

Jör looked down the hall to be certain that no one was coming, then back to the two men standing at the window. He blinked.

Though he disliked remaining in human form for extended periods of time, he almost had no choice. His serpent body had far outpaced that of his human one, growing to a size unheard of on Midgard and rare even by the standards of Asgard and Jötunheimr. He’d allowed himself to really stretch out to the true size his body wished to be only once and the results had been… destructive. Now if he wished to transform he had to keep a tight control over his own body to keep from growing too large. Even keeping his form as small as possible, those around him tended to become alarmed. And he was still growing larger. 

He couldn’t transform so often as Fenrir did, but the restriction had taught him a skill Fen had yet to master: a partial transformation. With a great deal of concentration Jör was able to transform a part of him to his serpent’s body while the rest of him still appeared- still _was_ humanoid. It was a skill that had limited uses, but there was one thing which he liked to do, one skill his serpent body possessed that his human body did not. 

As a serpent he could ‘see’ the heat and coolness of things around him, living or otherwise. He’s seen programs on television that tried to mimic what that sort of sight would look like, and while the idea of it was accurate, it was like trying to show what seeing shapes was like by having someone watch a black and white silent film. They would get the idea, but it would be flat and exaggerated at the same time, with none of the depth of the real thing. 

As the world around him bloomed into a different palette of colors, Jör returned his attention to his parents. To a simple animal, thermal sight gave an edge in hunting prey and little else. It was enough for an animal, whose needs were simple, but Jör had learned to use it for more complicated observations. One such way was in reading people, whose body temperature patterns would change depending on the emotion they were feeling - or on whether or not they were wearing a coat on a cold day. For now it was an art more than a science, highly interpretive and given to outside influences, but he’d made some progress in pinpointing some broad emotions he could read from a distance. With time he was certain that he would be able to pinpoint ever subtler signs, and practice would only refine his skills at interpretation, at weeding out those signs which weren’t pertinent to the overall picture of the person. 

Just now, both of his parents’ temperatures showed what Jör had come to think of as neutral, but leaning towards happy, with their extremities being the coolest but still warm, torsos also warm, and the greatest concentration of warmth being from the chest up. This was true even for his father, who was a Jötun. Jör had found that unless he allowed that side of his nature to show, became angry or used a great deal of magic, then even his thermal sight was fooled by the glamor which cloaked his father, with no clue that he was any different from those around him. It was interesting, and something Jör kept filed in his mind, that even his sight was not foolproof in discovering if someone were in disguise.

As he watched, he saw his father turn his head to look at iron-dad, and though neither of them spoke, his temperature changed. The warmth at his head and chest grew, spread to take in all of his torso while his legs grew cooler. He stepped closer to iron-dad and touched his arm. Jör could see that he said something when he leaned close to iron-dad, whose temperature immediately began to change to match what father’s had turned to. 

Jör smiled, the odd expression coming unconsciously even as he felt his cheeks warming up. He was glad to see that whatever it was they were talking about, it was something which pleased them both. At the same time, he felt more like a spy than he did when looking in on anyone else. 

It was good to see with his own eyes the love they had for each other, however little they might say it out loud. 

He blinked again, allowing his body to return to its all humanoid form, and turned away to give his parents some privacy. They _had_ both been busy of late, and had obviously missed each other. As he was turning away, though, he was stopped by iron-dad’s voice calling out to him. 

“Hey there, Slim! What’re you up to?”

Jör cringed a little at being discovered. He had hoped he could sneak away quickly enough to not be noticed, but apparently he’d been too slow. He turned back around, smile wrestled back into place. 

Both of them were turned now and looking at him. Iron-dad’s face was broken out in a wide grin, while father looked mostly curious, though Jör recognized the softness around his eyes, reassuring him that his father was not annoyed at the interruption. 

He shrugged. “Going outside,” he said. They didn’t look annoyed, but it had been a long time since they had both had some free time. He didn’t want to take up the opportunity they had to spend some time together when each of them could spend time with Jör individually with much less hassle. 

“No, wait there a sec, kiddo. C’mere a minute.”

A little reluctantly, Jör went in to stand in front of both of them. As he came close, iron-dad frowned a little. “Good grief, have you grown since _this morning?”_

Father gave him a small smirk, affection still clear on his face. “Perhaps you have shrunk. Were you wearing those lifting shoes again?”

Iron-dad flushed, a temperature change even Jör’s human eyes could see. “That was _one time_ I wore those! I wish you’d let that go.”

The look on his father’s face told Jör that he would not be forgetting any time soon, and from the look on iron-dad’s face he could see that, too. “One time,” he agreed, “and yet those shoes remain. Almost as though you intend to wear them again in the future. Are we self-conscious over our height, Anthony?”

Iron-dad grumbled. “’S only because all you Asgardian types are so tall,” he muttered, and then motioned dramatically at Jör. “And now I’m about to be out-talled by my own son! Is there no justice? I’m _not_ short!”

“Of course you’re not.” Father followed up the reassuring words with a comforting little pat on the head. Iron-dad glared at him. 

Jör chuckled at the byplay. Even if this mostly human family had nothing else to offer - and it had plenty to offer the misplaced jötunar - there was always humor. Of all the things that could be offered, humor was probably the best of all. Father needed that humor to chase off the troubled clouds that hung around him, and humor helped him and his siblings to forget what had happened before. Well, maybe not forget, but creating new, good memories was almost as good. 

Shaking off the hand, iron-dad turned his attention to Jör. “How’re you doing today, Slim? I haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

“I’m alright,” he said, deciding on simple answers. “I was doing predictions this morning. Lost track of time.”

That earned him a smile from iron-dad. “Know that feeling. Well, how do you feel about an evening of games? Pops here and I both got some time off for good behavior.”

That did get Jör’s attention. “Time off? No work?” He looked at father. “No tasks?”

Father smiled at him, nodding. “That’s right. No tasks, at least for a time. And while we have the opportunity, we thought some quality time was in order.”

“Really?” He looked between them. “How long do we have?”

Iron-dad shrugged, still smiling. “At least a few days. And I intend to stretch that out for as long as I can.”

Father nodded. “Indeed. We have both been far too busy for too long. A holiday would seem to be in order.”

“Ooh!” Iron-dad’s face lit up, mirroring Jör’s feelings perfectly. “Do you think we should go for that? Turn it into a full vacation? It’ll be harder for anyone to drag us back into work if we’re not here. I’ve got a couple new toys to try out which would make it harder to find us as well.”

“I don’t see why not. We have more than earned it, to my mind. The world can take care of itself for a few weeks.”

Iron-dad had to shake himself out of the reverie he seemed to have fallen into before he could turn back to Jör again. “Go rustle up the sibs for some game time, and we’ll talk about vacation spots.”

Jör didn’t need to be told twice. He trotted off to hunt up Fenrir and Hela, father and iron-dad already discussing ideas for their vacation as he went. 

A vacation would be excellent for all of them. An opportunity for Fen to run a little wild, travel even better than a field trip for Hela, and a break for both fathers, as well as an opportunity for them all to spend time together. It was an excellent idea, one he hoped nothing would butt in to derail. 

He didn’t even think how good a vacation would be for himself, but even as he ran to find his siblings his spirits lightened, his heavy thoughts chased away.

**Author's Note:**

> No Steve to pick on this time. Aww. :'(
> 
> This installment took so long, in small part, just because getting into Jör’s head is a lot more difficult than I had anticipated. And yep, more bits and pieces of the kids’ past, as well as some foreshadowing for their future. We'll get to it eventually. 
> 
> *ominous music in the distance*


End file.
